Ciao, Doitsu
by anime-sparkle-party
Summary: During an (unspecified) war Germany cant find Italy, when he finds his weak body he is determined for them to return back to their loved ones, and pasta but sometimes things go wrong, sometimes its not over and sometimes, when you believe you're finally safe, you're even further from it than before. Sometimes the most innocent and defenceless are the ones hurt the most. One-Shot


He could barely look at the little casket as he dropped a single, lavender heliotrope beside him. As his large, weathered hand brushed against the now cold, but always soft Italians skin he could barely contain his misery. He clenched his jaw, "I vill not cry. I VILL NOT CRY." He ordered himself. As he walked past the flower filled box that held his only friend he caught a last glimpse of Italy's sparkling toffee hair, it took all his might not to run back and touch its soft, velvety feel for a last time, like he had all those nights ago, before the war, when he could play with it when italy was asleep beside him, always astounded by its perfect texture. With this fleeting thought, the rock that had formed when he first saw his wounded body on the hard rocks of the battle field, and had greeted him every morning when Italy wasn't there to pull all the blankets over himself, leaving Germany freezing, suddenly seemed to drop into his stomach, leaving him doubled over, fighting with all his might to not let a tear form as he clenched the pew and walked back to his seat beside Japan. "Italy wouldn't want this." He growled under his breath, "Italy would never want you to cry, he would worry." But as he passed Romano, any foolish ideas of fake smiles left him, the older brother hadn't stopped crying and moaning in grief since the news. Buried in Spain's arms, he whimpered as Germany passed his pew at the front, he tried to look away, but Germany would never forget that conversation,

"If you let a hair on his head get TOUCHED, GERMANY, I'll, I'll…."  
The older Italian brother spoke with what others might presume as rage, but Germany knew that it was only the love for his brother that made him lash out at him, he didn't want to see him hurt, mentally or physically.  
"Ov course I vont let anything happen to him, Romano. He'll most likely just hid and wave his little flag the whole time.."  
Romano interrupted him, the small guy pouncing on him,"You KNOW it's not Like that Germany, you potato…"  
"I'm sorry, I vont let them get anywhere near Italy!"  
"If they get him, they could do anything to him, it wouldn't matter how Hard he was waving that flag of his, you know what they're capable of…" Romano hissed back, but before he could finish his sickening tale of what somebody could possibly do to his little Italia, italy himself appeared in the doorway, "Doitsu! Doitsu! I can't button up my uniform, please will you help me?"  
"Ja, I vill" he replied as Romano huffed in a corner for not being the one Italy asked.  
The incompetent fool had managed to get all the buttons and button holes mixed up and he kneeled down to get to his level.  
"Do I look pretty in my uniform, Doitsu?"  
"Ja, you look very pretty, Italy." gaining him evil stares from Romano, who finally came out from the corner,  
"You know there isn't pasta in Germany, right?" He said,  
"Well I'll make some, big brother! Germany is great! He gives me lovely food and if he gets the ingredients I'll make some pasta for us to share together! Doitsu always takes good care of me, big brother! You shouldn't worry!"  
He stood up and blushed slightly at the praise, even though it wasn't rare that Italy would sing his praises…literally.  
"Ja, I'll take care of you Italy."

Romano stood up shakily when Germany passed, his breathing shaky. Spain tried to coax him back down, "Now's not the time" he mumbled, but in Romano's eyes, Germany saw everything the older brother was thinking, "You…" he squeaked, barely audible. His eyes were red and his face blotchy from many days tears,"you said…" the whole assembly around them had fallen quieter, " you promised him," the pain in Germany's chest only grew stronger as he heard the words he'd been thinking since that dark night, Romano whimpered as more droplets fell from his light brown eyes and Germany looked away again, the resemblance between the two only hurt him more.

"But don't you deserve it?" Asked a dark voice in his head. "You let him die, alone, scared…"  
"He believed in you…" Romano whispered, as if reading his thoughts, before Spain took him in his arms again and the second brother he'd failed moaned in grief once more, almost in harmony with the cries of Hungary the pew behind, begging for her little Italy to come back into her arms.

When he finally came to his pew beside Japan, he could barely sit down he was so hunched over with the pain of his loss. He dropped his face in one hand while the other pulled off his cap and ran through his straightened hair, making it loose and it fell over his face, the blond mass hiding his eyes as hot tears slipped out from his scrunched up eyes, onto his hand.

Japan was silent for most of the ceremony, he had not cried, he had not looked at Germany in the way others did, he did not blame him, instead he comforted him. He was out there that night as well. He found them, and took them to safety. Always calm, but even as Germany glanced through his soaked hand, he could see that usually so emotionless, even Japan looked saddened today.  
"Do not cry, Germany."  
He said softly, noticing Germany's gaze.  
"He was never seen without a smile on his face, he wouldn't want this."  
He knew that, it broke his heart remembering that smile, his smile. He didn't want Japan to say this now! He couldn't think about that!  
"DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT?!"  
Germany snapped, feeling guilty for letting down Ita-chan once more. He noticed that everyone had stopped and looked at the large German with the messy blond hair who had stood up so disrespectfully.

And with a last glance at the people he'd failed. The people who'd expected sweet little Italy's safety and return, Italy who would never hurt a soul, who was forced to go to the battle field, because of his boss, but would never fight, he stormed out of the old Italian building to the green field of the Italian landscape. However on this one occasion, instead of warm sunlight and a smell of pasta, the view was grey and rain splashed down on the Germans hair. He walked towards a little wooden bench close by, he knew it was there because Italy had brought him there once when he was visiting. Now wet, cold and alone, the spot was almost unrecognisable from that time when they'd sat together and Italy had talked and he had said "ja" more times than he'd ever said in his life.  
Crushed by the memory, he kneeled behind the bench clinging onto it for support. And more unwanted clips from that night came into his view as the rain got heavier.

"ITALIA! ITALIA!" He called, his voice fighting against the gun fire, the bombs, the screams and groans and piercing cries of dying men everywhere. The howling wind fraught against him, the pelting storm and crashes of thunder, nature too was against him. He pushed against it, desperate to find the little nation he'd so carelessly lost in the midst of the harsh battle, he was unarmed, defenceless except for the little gun he'd made Germany many months before, it was practically useless though, made to be easy to clean, not easy to kill with.  
He panted as his efforts were fruitless, his mind wandered to the dreaded 'what ifs' and his mind raced to the possibilities of what could be happening to ita-chan, what if they took him, what would they do to him? He knows nothing, would they believe that though? Always sen with the German leader, the nation may easily be confused as someone with knowledge. They could torture him! Or worse... Furious with people who could do such things to little Italy, he grinded his teeth and pushed harder against the wind, desperate to find him even more. Germany shock his head as these wild thoughts overtook him, of course, Italy was fine, he would be hiding in a tomato box somewhere, he would be okay, they'd go home and everything would be perfect again.  
"Italy!" He shouted but his voice wobbled. He marched through the battle field for what seemed like years. The storm blurred his vision and limited his footwork and when he got to a row of ruined stone houses he pushed himself against one of the last standing walls for support and to catch his breath.  
"Oh Italy, where are you?" He murmured into the hard brick,  
"Ger-Germany?" Whispered a distinctive Italian accent, is that you, Doitsu?"  
"ITALY?" He whirled around, "ITALY? Where are you?"  
"Over here, it croaked."  
Following the boyish tone, Germany came to a hole in the ground behind a ruined wall, in it, surrounded by broken bricks and stones and blood, was the little nation.  
Barely able to control his shock of Italy's ruined state, Germany rushed down to him and pulled him from the rubble. His body was weak and light, they had little food in the base and it had taken a toll on the already weak nation. He held him up easily in his strong muscular arms and as his fingers touched the Italians copper hair he noticed it was wet, not just from the heavy storms, it was hit and sticky. Blood oozed from his skull and his body winced when Germany touched the crack.  
It was obvious just by looking at him he'd suffered some broken bones and maybe rib bruising along with that nasty crack under his matted hair but it was nothing that couldn't be fixed. Usually he'd have flung him over his shoulder and marched off but he was more careful this time. Italy was almost passed out already and he didn't want to cause him any more unnecessary pain, he didn't deserve it.  
"Come on, Italia" he spoke softly as he swung his legs over his left arm while carrying his upper body in his right. Nearly immediately he rested his head against Germany's neck breathing heavily as he whispered, "I knew you'd come save me Germany, you always do."  
Germany liked down at his fully opened brown eyes, they sparkled as always and it gave Germany hope and happiness. "As long as his eyes are that bright ill never be unhappy" he thought while listening to Italy him some sweet tune into his neck.

Germany sighed in relieve as the base finally came into view. He'd had quite enough of stomping through blood, bodies and mud for the rest of his life,

"hey Italy look, we're almost there." He nodded at the base and Italy smiled, thankful .

"Doitsu, you think they'll let us go home when we get there?"

"I think so, Italy. I hope so."  
"Can we have pasta for dinner?"  
"Ja, we might be able to have pasta...so many lost we may as well have..."  
"Hum, Doitsu?"  
"Oh, nothing important."  
"When Romano hears about this hell be so pleased with you Germany"  
"He might even like you!"  
"I wouldn't put my hopes on it"  
He replied smiling down at Italy, always meaning well,  
" and miss Hungary and Austria can..."  
Suddenly I hear a faint sound above. As I turn i realise. I run with Italy in my arms to the nearest cover. I hear the explosions all around us. The haunting sound of blasts. It is a fiery hell. I run. I run burying my face in Italy's hair and suddenly I'm not running anymore. I'm flung into the air and Ita-chan isn't in my arms anymore. I fall on some gravel and the world swirls. Falling backwards, trying to catch my breath. The impact of the fall blew the oxygen out of my lungs and I can't stand. I lie in the dirt and wonder what im doing it hits me, Italy. Where did he fall? I stumble around , tripping over corpses and rubble and my own feet until I see the blue uniform . I crawl over to him. He is against a wall.  
"Doit...su?"  
He whispers softly  
"ITALY! " my voice is gruffer than intended as I fall against my best friend. He's smiling, but his eyes...  
"Italy! Look at me! You're okay well get you out of here!"  
My hand goes to his head and immediately I feel the sticky hot blood, more than before. His breathing Is muffled and slow. His bright blue uniform has red seeping through from his chest.  
"Don't worry about me doitsu" he croaks as he attempts to sit up again, but he falls down and closes his eyes.  
"Felenziano!" I cry holding his body in my arms, he opens them again, I didn't often use his human name, hoped it would startle him,  
"Let's get up now, ja? The base is only over there, you'll be fine, well have pasta!"  
His voice cracked and Italy smiled,  
"Ludwig" he sighed again, looking up as his beautiful brown eyes dulled.  
"I'm sorry Ludwig, I'm just so tired, ill make you some delicious pasta tomorrow, okay?"  
His eyes blinked a few times more before they completely shut, "Felenziano..?"  
"Ciao, Doitsu" whispers his mouth before there is all silence.  
"Italia?" I mumble and I repeat it over and over shaking his little body.!  
"Italy Felenziano! Get up!" I order. Tears stream down my face. All my years on the battlefield and I'd never experienced this...no he couldn't be! He can't be!  
Italy was smiling like Germany often remembered him doing in sleep, in fact, he looked as though he was sleeping, and Germany sat with his large arms wrapped around the body of what could have been a little child, running his fingers through his bridge hair.  
He could've been sat their for hours, days, weeks when Japan finally found them. All sence of time stopped for Ludwig when his little Italy was gone. The old nation was as calm as ever. Somehow he dragged Germany to his feet Italy's body along with him. It was all a blur, all wrong a haze in Germany's mind. He walked slowly with Japan. They did not speak. Japan was good at sending the mood. He did not blame. He did not ask questions. He looked down and he wasn't sure, but Germany thought he might have saw the smallest tear fall from Japan when he thought he wasn't looking.

"Everybody loved little Italy."  
Germany murmured. He was covered in mud, giving up on ever getting to the bench and just sat in the mud, letting the rain flatten his hair against his face. I failed him. It was my fault.  
"No, Germany-san. That is not true"  
"When did you get here?" Cried Germany, who had not noticed that Japan had sat down on the bench above him. "Mr Germany, do not hate yourself for what happened to Italy-san."  
"But I promised him, I'd always save him!"  
He cried out, his face falling into his hands once more.  
"He wouldn't want you to hate yourself."  
Japan looked up, out from the old building came a small crowd of crying people. In the middle was a closed coffin with a weak scent of spring flowers drifting from it.


End file.
